


Dream a Little Dream

by Lilbreck



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: F/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-09
Updated: 2010-08-09
Packaged: 2017-10-11 00:38:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/106317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilbreck/pseuds/Lilbreck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nothing could ever make me happier than being with you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dream a Little Dream

**Author's Note:**

> Written for thomasina75 's Fred fic-a-thon. Request: A happy ending, "Grr Argh", slow dancing, sorry if the ending's not as happy as you were looking for, Emmy. Thanks to velvetwhip for the last minute quick beta. Originally Posted July 19th, 2005.

Every day it seemed harder to keep fighting. He wasn't really a champion anymore and he wasn't sure if he'd ever been one to begin with. The only thing that kept him going these days was the fact that Gunn, Spike and Illyria seemed to need him to be their leader. That and the dreams.

Angel couldn't help thinking of those dreams as he made his way back to the hotel. The last time he'd had dreams this vivid was when Wolfram and Hart had brought Darla back to torment him. He somehow doubted that he'd find out Fred was sitting on top of him using some magic powder to get into his dreams. Though, he wouldn't be unhappy if that was the case. None of them would.

Making his way up the stairs, he did his best not to appear too eager to be alone. He really didn't want to try explaining to the others that he was just looking forward to dreaming. He knew it was just a way of escaping and didn't want to admit to them that he had become that weak. So he slumped his shoulders and slowed his pace, saying his goodnights in a weary tone.

Once the door of his room closed behind him, he quickly made his way to the bathroom, shedding clothes as he went. The water was scalding hot and the shampoo and soap were cheap, but he was in too much of a hurry to notice or really care.

As he walked out of the bathroom, one towel wrapped low around his waist, the other drying his hair, he was humming softly. By the time he had put on his pajama bottoms and slipped into bed he was wearing a silly grin.

The grin was still on his face as he opened his eyes and sat up in bed.

"What are you so happy about tonight?" a soft voice asked.

She was standing just outside the doors leading to his balcony, soft cotton dress blowing in the night breeze. He loved her in dresses, especially the kind that moved at the slightest hint of wind. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he sat facing her still grinning.

"Just happy I get to see you."

She smirked at his answer and backed further out onto the balcony, one finger motioning him to follow her. Stalking her through the doors, he backed her up against the railing, leaning in to kiss and nip at her neck. Her arms wrapped around his waist, hands playing above the waistband of his pants. The heat she gave off always amazed him. He couldn't remember if she'd been this warm in reality or not.

"What if I told you that soon you'd be happier when you were awake?"

Leaning away from her tempting neck, he looked into her eyes, trying to see how serious she was. Deciding that it was just some mysterious test that women put men through, he leaned in with a small smile and gently kissed her mouth.

"Nothing could ever make me happier than being with you."

Distantly, he could hear the radio by his bed click on and slow music filled the room. Pushing him back a little, she walked around him and back inside, her hand on his wrist pulling him after her.

"It's been forever since I've danced. Dance with me?"

He was about to make excuses why he couldn't, when she turned around and looked at him with those big, hopeful eyes of hers. He couldn't say no when she looked at him like that. Pulling her close, he wrapped one arm around her waist and took up her hand in his as her other hand came to rest lightly on his shoulder. As she laid her head on his chest he began swaying slowly in time with the music and her quiet humming.

It seemed to him that they danced for hours and the song never ended. He thought he could stay in this moment forever. That was, until he felt her body shift a bit and then felt the wet warmth of her mouth on his neck.

"Do you remember," she asked, slowly moving her mouth up towards his jaw line, "That night in the alley, when all of Jasmine's people were chasing after us?"

He wondered where she was going with this, but was too distracted by what she was doing to him to do more than nod his head and softly grunt to let her know he was listening.

"Do you remember that kiss?"

A memory of the feel of her body against his, her hand wrapped around the back of his neck hit him and, moaning softly, he pulled her impossibly closer. Softly laughing, she moved one hand around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss.

Lost in the kiss, he barely noticed she was slowly pushing him back toward the bed. He would have continued to ignore it if the foot of the mattress hadn't stopped their progress.

She gently nudged him to lie down and followed after him when he shifted himself up toward the pillows. Placing her hand on his chest for balance, she arched one leg over him to straddle his hips. She settled herself atop him, wiggling more than was good for his sanity, and probably more than she strictly needed to.

With a wicked gleam in her eye, she throatily whispered to him, "I remember it."

It took him a second to remember what they were talking about, but before he could respond, she continued on.

"I think about it all the time, to tell ya the truth."

Starting at his chin, she trailed the nail of her index finger down the centerline of his body, biting her lip as she followed it with her eyes.

"I wonder what could have happened if nobody had come along, if they hadn't found us."

Leaning forward, she placed her other hand by his head, shifting her weight to give her room between them. It was her whole hand she returned to his stomach, fingers facing downwards. Slowly inching her hand under the top of his pants, she continued to tell him what she'd been thinking about.

"I wonder what your fingers would have felt like, sinking deep into me. Wondered if you would've talked dirty to me, would've taken me rough and fast."

His eyes rolled back and his neck arched from the combination of the sound of her voice and the warmth of her hand. Just as she was about to wrap said hand around his shaft, they were both startled by a knock at the door.

"Grr."

"Argh," was the laughing rebuttal from above him.

Removing her hand from his pants, she leaned forward and gave him a soft kiss.

"You'd better get that, could be important."

Pulling her back down for a kiss, he grabbed at her hand, urging it back between his legs.

"But I don't want to wake up; this was just getting really good."

Smiling, Fred reached down and ran her hand over his eyes, encouraging them to close.

"Trust me, this will be good news."

When he opened his eyes again, she was gone and the knock was accompanied by the sound of an impatient voice calling him.

"Angelus, get up, you sorry git, you've got company!"

Hating Spike a little more in that instant, Angel got dressed and followed the bane of his existence down to the lobby, growling the whole time about stakes, crosses, sunlight and white-haired menaces.

When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he was brought up short by a sight he never thought he'd see again. Willow was in his lobby again. This time there was no expression of grief, or one of accomplishment on her face. This time she looked nervous and slightly guilty. He had a feeling Spike must have spent some time talking to the witch before coming to wake him up.

Upon seeing him, she rose to her feet and held out a small wooden box in her hands like an offering.

"Look. I come bearing gifts. And hey, not a Greek, so no worries."

The last was said like a question and, given their current attitudes about any of the Sunnydale crew, he could understand. He would have been suspicious himself, if he didn't suddenly hear Fred's last words ringing in his ears.

A small and sudden spark of hope came to life in his chest, and he found it difficult to talk around the long forgotten feeling.


End file.
